


Young and Beautiful: The 1920's

by steelneena



Series: Swanfire Prompts Through the Decades [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:32:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/steelneena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fics for Swanfire!1920's Verse</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young and Beautiful: The 1920's

**Author's Note:**

> This features a cameo from Rapunzel as the backroom singer, named for her actress on the show.  
> Also, took a page out of lizandletdie's A Mother and a Father, and made Neal's real name Bailey, thus the nickname Bae.

The Jefferson's Backroom bar was sticky-hot, the room smokey and the stench in the air was putrid of bodies and sweat and alcohol, but she was having fun. She had yet to cut her hair into the stylish bob (she had a hair appointment tomorrow, planned, of all things, with her own mother, who also planned to get the cut), but she'd pinned it fashionably with a feather in a sequined band that she had borrowed from Ruby. The friend in question was currently draped over the arm of the bumbling and sweet, albeit older gentleman, Archie Hopper, whom people affectionately (at least those who ran in the right circles) called Jiminy , in reference to his penchant for using the exclamation on nearly every occasion. The music was in swell - the singer, Alexandra, had a fantastically mellow voice - and Emma was having a roaring good time. She'd been sipping on bathtub scotch, and laughing through a game of Sheepshead when he rounded the corner. She'd never seen him before, and even in her tipsy state, Emma was positive that she would have remembered such a gorgeous looking fella.

  
Pulling away from the card game (Archie and Ruby were losing miserably to August and his partner Killian, both of whom, Emma noted, were cheating) she sashayed over to the Stranger, smiling a temptuous grin at him. Her straight cut dress - champagne coloured - swirled around her long legs, the beading on the fringe clacking noiselessly amidst the noise of the crowd, the music, the laughter, chatter and clinking glasses.

  
"Well hello there," The Stranger's eyebrows shot up comically towards his hairline as he gave her an appreciative once over. All in all, Emma knew, she was quite the Vamp.  
"Haven't seen you around before, Stranger," She stated, almost seductively. The drinks had lowered her inhibitions and she hoped he would show her a better time than Ruby Red.

  
"Haven't been here before, beautiful. May I ask you name?"

  
"Oh, hun, You don't have to ask. I'm Emma Swan,"

"Miss Swan. Such a graceful moniker for such a fiery dame," His words and manner gave away a lot about him. Emma had always prided herself on being able to tell the very neighbourhood of any new buck who came wandering by the establishment, simply from how he spoke to her. From behind, she heard Killian commenting on "the state of Red's gams" and fought a smile. She tapped the bar with one hand, and Jefferson passed her out a tumbler of scotch. "How about your name, Sly?" Emma asked, pressing the glass into his hands, and wrapping her own over his. 

"Neal. Cassidy. Neal Cassidy, Miss Swan,"

"Well Mr. Cassidy, how about we have a dance?" He leaned towards her, the scruff of his bead catching on her cheek. 

"I might just know a place where we can have a dance, if you're interested," His voiced was rough and deep, but it melted like chocolate over her ears. When Mr. Cassidy pulled back, Emma threw him an inquisitive, but not disinterested look.

"You might know a place?"

"I might," 

She tipped back her tumbler, downing the rust coloured liquor, arching her brow at him provocatively. "Have you got a ride, Mr. Cassidy?"

"I've got a tudor waiting outside, yeah,"

"And it's not a fivver?" She asked, skeptical. He only flashed his pearling teeth at her widely. 

"No, I promise that it's anything but,"

He took her hand and led her, weaving serpentine through the tightly packed crowd. Neal Cassidy, however hard he had been trying to hide it, reeked of money. Most likely familial and probably ill-gotten, but Emma didn't care. She threw a look over her shoulder, nodding to Ruby, who caught her eye. They'd agreed that if they left with anyone unfamiliar, and weren't back to the apartment by at least five in the morning, they were going to call Killian and have him handle the situation. Killian ran tommies, and had a secret cache, plus some Springfields. It was a business he ran out of Jefferson's establishment, and no one much minded, as long as he didn't bring his problems along past the backroom door. 

They exited the stuffy music hall with stumbling ease, and meandered over to where he had parked his car on the road. It was indeed a tudor, a Model A in fine condition and Neal opened the door for her courteously before closing it, and hopping in over his own.  
When they were on the road, and speeding away, Emma finally spoke up. 

"So, Mr. Cassidy, where are we headed for this dance? It better be some helluva special place, because I was having a lotta fun back at Jefferson's,"

"Oh, it's special kitten," 

"Don't try so hard, Neal," She shot back, crossing her arms. He turned to look at her, surprised. "What?" She thew back at the look he'd given her. "You've got the money look about you, and this car?"

"Alright, Emma. I won't try so hard. I know a real nice place. We'll have to break in, but somehow, I don't think you'll much care. And we can have all the champagne you like,"

"I like whiskey,"

"Whiskey it is, then,"

The estate they were headed towards was huge and obviously glamorous, like a castle, but all the windows were darkened. 

"No one's home. I've got the schedule on this place down," He told her as he squatted in his nice suit, picking away at the lock with a nice set that he'd pulled from his inner coat pocket. 

"What do you do, Neal?" Emma asked him, genuinely curious. 

"Why, Miss Swan, I'm a burglar. A thief. But also a gentleman. I promise you that," The lock clicked. "It's all about the tumblers,"

"You don't strike me as someone who has to steal for a living,"

"Maybe I'm not. Like I said, I'm a gentleman thief. I don't do it for my own gain. I'm kind of like Robin Hood, if you will," 

"My mother owns a copy of that book. It was her grandmothers. The Howard Pyle edition. I've read it. So, you're saying that you steal from people who don't deserve what they've got and give it to people they do?" He shrugged, pushing open the gate and gesturing for her to go through. 

"Mostly I just to the stealing part. Where it goes depends. I don't usually keep it. Sometimes, I give it to their social rivals, especially if they're decent people. Mostly, my father takes care of it. It's kind of a...hmmm side business of his. I just do the dirty work," There was a bitter tinge to his words, as he spoke. 

"You don't like this practice?"

"It was fun at first, but now my father's primarily using it for his own ambitions. I know what I do isn't right, but, well, I have more moral sense than my father,"  
She gave a resigned smile. 

"Your name isn't Neal Cassidy, is it?"

"Tonight, most nights, it is. Is that enough?"

"For now,"

She'd followed him through the house, and he'd grabbed her a bottle of single-malt scotch, and two glasses. Emma thought that they had reached their destination when he opened a door to the biggest ballroom she had ever seen, but, once more taking her hand in his only free one (she was holding the whiskey) he pulled her across the floor to a large set of french doors which opened onto and open air patio. They fairly floated down the stone steps, past the fountain and back into-

"An apple orchard?"

"The nicest apple orchard you've ever been in. This house belongs to Cora Mills, and this is her daughter, Regina's, orchard. She grows prize apples. It's crazy, but she's obsessed with them," He put down the glasses on a stone bench beneath one of the trees. Emma handed off the bottle, and he set it next to their glasses, before clasping her hands in his own, and pulling her into a brisk sway, dancing under the moonlight and the apple trees to the beat of a song only in his head. 

They danced and chatted and drank the scotch till there was only a forth left in the bottle. It had to have been around three when they were finally caught. 

"Excuse me, but you're trespassing on private property. I'll have to ask you to leave," The Irish brogue was clipped and impatient. 

"Shit," Emma mumbled into Neal's shoulder. Sometime during the evening, she'd pulled herself flush with him, and they'd grown quieter, speaking sweet nothings, him placing whiskey kisses along her jaw, into the curve of her neck, just below her ear. 

"Oh, don't mind us, Graham. We're just enjoying ourselves at Cora's expense," Neal chuckled, not quite sloshed, but most certainly not sober. 

"Bae? Bailey Gold, is that you?"

"Who else d'ya think it would be, Graham ole pal?"

"Lord if I knew. Just take you bird and get out, Bae,"

"Hmmmm, I knew you weren't a Neal," Emma laughed, pressing her forefinger into his chest and pushing at him. "But, Mr. Bailey Gold, you look like a Neal. So I'm gonna keep calling you that, okay? Now, you've gotta get me back to my apartment before Red sics Killian on you,"

"Oh you're both sloshed," Graham mumbled, running his hand over his face in exasperation, while Neal giggled at Emma. 

"Oh no, big bad Killian. I guess I'd better get ya home Emma, Emms 'mms,"

Yes, Emma thought as Graham ushered them into the house to call a cab, this was the beginning of quite the friendship.


End file.
